ABC, 123 Drabbles
by livyroro
Summary: Collection of 36 one shots - 26 letters of the alphabet and numbers 1 through 10 - of Warner and Juliette's life after Ignite Me. No real plot, just little things that don't really connect. Rated M for smut.
1. A is for Aim

**A** is for **Aim**.

* * *

Juliette wipes her brow for what seems like the hundredth time in only a few minutes. Warner watches with a calculating stare as she sets herself up to fire.

He must correct her stance. It's her main problem. "Stop, love. If you're going to be the Supreme Commander –"

"Don't call me that," she retorts, a fire lighting in her eyes.

He sighs. "Okay. If you're going to rule the world you need to know how to shoot a gun with accuracy."

She bites her lip, knowing that he's right, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of beating her, even if it's in the smallest way.

The simple action has Warner's pants throbbing. He turns away and tries to compose himself, but it doesn't help that when he turns around Juliette is hovering a few inches from his face, studying him.

"What?" He chokes out, his cool demeanor diminishing for a split second.

"I'm trying to see what you're thinking," she replies, completely serious.

Warner bursts out laughing. She narrows her eyes at him, again trying to decipher what he's thinking. She may have many amazing powers, but telepathy isn't one of them. She hates herself for feeling guilty of Warner's ability when she has so many, but she wonders what it'd be like to read other peoples emotions as easily as a book.

Warner doesn't consider his power to be 'telepathy,' as Juliette does, but more of a sixth sense of a sort. He's learned to control it more, so he can stop receiving feelings from someone if he doesn't want to. And it works most of the time. But he can't seem to turn Juliette off – in more ways than one.

"Don't laugh at me," she says, her voice lower than usual. Warner knows her cool and collected act is superficial. She's feeling angry right now, probably at her inability to shoot correctly. He also senses lust – a feeling he desperately hopes is for him.

"I'm sorry. Now, stand here," he orders her like a soldier, pointing to the mark on the floor where you stand when you shoot, "And do what I say."

She obediently moves to the mark on the floor, sliding with her right foot, never taking her eyes off Warners.

He moves around her, and she stands perfectly straight and at attention. She feels a slight pressure on her shoulder and realizes that he's holding her arms the way that she should be shooting the gun. Normally, if she couldn't do something this simple and needed this much help she'd be mortified. But since it was Warner helping, she didn't really mind as much as she should.

"Keep your hand here," he murmurs, lips grazing her ear, "And tilt your arm upwards a bit," he adjusts their arms, "There. Good."

They can feel each others hearts racing and Juliette's not sure how much longer they can continue being so serious because she knows Warner can read her thoughts.

And right now they're only about him.

Being so young and in so much power, one might think that her mind is constantly filled with political anxieties and strategies.

But that isn't the case.

She wishes she could say most of her thoughts are about work and a small percent are about her boyfriend, but it's the other way around. Especially now, with his arms around her and his body pressing her everywhere,

Everywhere,

And she can't breathe.

Everything he's saying becomes dimmed, and when he shoots the gun for her it sounds like it's a mile away.

All of the sudden the cold cold cold comes rushing back in and everything jolts back into focus. He's standing away from her, a confused look on his face.

"Juliette? Love? Are you listening to me?" He asks. He already knows she wasn't listening to him, but he wants to know what's going on with her.

She stutters out a response she can't even hear. Her ears are still backed up, like they were left behind at the start line and the rest of her body is sprinting past the finish.

"What's wrong, love?" His concern is slowly growing as she continues to stand there, staring at him, seemingly disconnected from the rest of the world. He puts his hands on her shoulders, and everything comes crashing back.

"Uh, I was just distracted," she says, not bluffing but not telling the whole truth. What she means was that she was distracted by _him._

Warner, knowing what she's saying, decides to play with her a bit. "Oh. Is something from work bothering you?" He starts massaging her shoulders.

She bites her lip, hard, to contain a groan when his fingers work her tense muscles.

He finds his actions having effects on him too as he feels his pants begin to tighten even more and he's surprised she hasn't noticed yet.

"No," she replies coyly. She's not going to give him what he wants, whatever that is.

"Hmm. Are you frustrated?" He asks softly, pretending to be clueless.

"Yeah," she forces out. _Frustrated that you won't kiss me!_

Her emotions wash over him like a tsunami and he can't take it anymore. He slides his hands down her perfect body quickly and rests them on her hips. He closes the distance between their faces and presses his lips to hers.

He walks forward quickly, pushing Juliette forward until she almost falls then hits the concrete wall roughly. Her shoulder starts to ache from where she just landed but she doesn't care, doesn't care because his lips are still moving on hers.

They may be the teasing type, and the kind of couple who loves to play games, but not now.

They waste no time in removing each other of their shirts, Juliette's is discarded in the far corner, landing on the pile of guns. Warners disappears somewhere behind him and he doesn't care where it went all that matters is her.

He breaks his lips off of hers and buries his face in the valley between her breasts. He trails kisses down to her shorts, feeling her muscles contract and smiling against her soft skin at the feeling of her.

She stands with her back to the wall while he kisses her, and decides to busy her hands with his pants. She quickly strips them off, leaving him in just his boxers.

Warner always likes them to be equal in the relationship, so her quickly removes her shorts and tosses them over his shoulder, leaving them somewhere on the ground abandoned with the rest of their clothes.

He has a fleeting moment of worry, that someone might stumble upon their little make out session – which may quickly escalate into something more, but only if she wants to – and he doesn't want his or her reputation to be tarnished.

But that thoughts – and all thoughts, for that matter – leave his head as her hand brushes his thighs.

With a grunt, he lifts her up, walking backwards from the wall and sets her down on the table, pushing off the guns without a care in the world if they're loaded or not.

He discards her panties and bra, and since he receives no complaint or words telling him to stop he quickly rids himself of his boxers.

He presses into her quickly, wanting her and only her. They groan together, the table creaking with every thrust.

And then the door bursts open.

And they freeze – though all they want to do is move.

A stunned looking Kenji stands in the doorway with a shotgun, for once in his life he's rendered speechless.

"Okay…I'm going to get out of here," he says, averting his eyes, "And you can…_finish up._ I don't really want to train in here anymore…but please, for all the civilians, clean up after yourselves." Kenji says, backing out of the door and shutting it loudly behind him.

Warner's about to apologize but he's cut off by her lips. He doesn't complain, and the two start where they left off.

Let's just say Kenji never trained in that gun room again – even the long treck to the other side of Warner's house was better than reliving the memories he acquired.


	2. B is for Break

**B** is for **Break**.

* * *

Sometimes, in the midst of their noisy fighting they'd discover something wonderful about each other.

"Listen to me, love," Warner shouts across his large bedroom. Juliette is leaning over his desk, writing down something furiously. Her hair's in the way, and every time she pushes it behind her ear it falls back down in a matter of seconds.

She's about to scream, a guttural sound that lets out all her anger and frustration, originating in the depths of her gut and traveling through her body, picking up all the anger as it went and then bein –

"I am listening!" She screeches, her voice loud. She recoils at the sound of it, so angry and vile and _raw_, but she continues writing anyways. She lets Warner think it's something important, a political document of utmost importance, let's say. But it's just another entry in her diary – which is now a collection of loose papers, scattered around her – their – room.

"Then act like it," he says, calmly. She's been distant the past few days, and Warner wants to know why. She gets like this sometimes, he knows, but every time she gets gloomy and depressed for about a week, and then it disappears before he could ask her about it, or help her. Now he's got her cornered. She's been in a funk for about four days, and it took him two to realize it, and the other two to plan a way to talk to her without getting her too upset.

The last time she got upset she flipped his car.

Her head snaps up, taking him by surprise. Her eyes look wild on the surface, but underneath the shiny exterior they're dark and sad.

He takes a deep breath. "What's bothering you?"

Sometimes Juliette thinks he's far too perceptive for his own good – or for hers. She knows she's almost bipolar, sometimes the littlest things will get her down and she'll stay down, with the depression sitting on her like a ton of weights, squeezing her like a snake.

This time it was something she'd rather not discuss with Warner.

A few days ago, she was talking to Kenji in the hallways when James skipped by, like he always does. She broke conversation, smiling and waving at the little boy. She almost called out to him, "Hey, Adam!"

But his name was James.

She was transported to a time, many years ago, back before the Reestablishment took over and ruined everything, a time when she sat in a small classroom next to a boy. The boy.

She realized with a shock that James had come to look like a carbon copy of his older brother. The older brother who harbored many bad memories for Juliette – memories she didn't like to think of, to bring to the surface. She liked to keep them locked away in a tiny box at the bottom of the deepest ocean in the world.

"I don't want to talk about it," she mutters under her breath, looking into his eyes for a second more before turning back to her papers.

Then she feels a cool hand on her wrist, turning her arm to fire. She refuses to look up, so she keeps her eyes trained on her writing.

"Please, Juliette. I can make it better," Warner says.

"Well maybe that's the problem, Warner! You can't make everything better, not with the touch of a finger! You can't fix this!" Juliette practically explodes, slamming her pen down on the wooden desk, pushing up out of the chair to come – almost – eye to eye with him.

"Why not?" He says, not backing down. He'll do anything for her, but he'll never let her win this, not again.

"Maybe it's not about you!" She says, accidentally giving away information. She curses mentally, and tries to regain her composure so she won't tell him. She can't tell him. She can't break his heart again.

"What is it about then, love? I hate seeing you like this," he says softly. He wants his strong Juliette back.

"I…I can't tell you," she stutters, looking anywhere, anywhere but his eyes.

He touches her cheek, turning her to him, "Yes you can," he murmurs.

She wants to get out of this, without telling him. "Maybe someday," she says, hoping it's enough.

He sighs, knowing that's all he'll get, but he'll take it. "Okay. Promise me you'll tell me someday."

"Promise," she says.

With no intention of ever telling him.


	3. C is for Champion

**C **is for **Champion.**

* * *

Warner sighs, and leans in the doorway, his weight fully supported by the frame. He watches Juliette work silently, and he can tell she's really into it because she doesn't look up when he walks into the room, not bothering to be quiet like he normally does.

It's hard, sometimes, having a relationship with someone who has equal power to you. It's a constant struggle for dominance, a fight to be on top, a competition to win.

And right now, Juliette's on top, and Warner won't have it.

Earlier today, when the sun was just peaking over the mountaintops and streaming through the sheer curtains, he had asked her to take the afternoon off. She'd given him a look like he was the stupidest person in the world, and refused.

But, see, all she ever does is sit at her little wooden desk, that used to be Warners, and she writes. She writes to the leaders of other countries and territories across the world, she writes to the servants, she writes to the army generals, and she even writes to the shop owners in town.

She writes to everyone.

And it's not the actual writing that bothers Warner, no. She's a good writer, his girl. She has a way with words that moves you, tears your soul apart and transports you back in time to wherever she wants you to go.

The thing that bothers him is, actually quite a selfish reason.

It's that he never sees her anymore.

Back when they were in the midst of a war, practically, a plan to overthrow the government, and when he was prisoner and she was his prisoner, they saw each other every day. And he became addicted to her, like a drug, and he's going through serious withdrawal not seeing her every second of every minute.

He understands that she has to work, he gets that. He was only the ruler of one part of a huge country and he had a ton of work, but now she's the ruler of the world, practically, so she has a million things to do.

But it can wait for tomorrow, he decides. Forget about countries and all that stuff. He wants her. And he's going to get her.

He marches over to her desk, and she doesn' t look up, or even stop what she's doing. He can't see her head; it's tilted low towards the table and her hair is fanned around her, like a protective tent sealing her in her own little world.

Warner walks as close as he can, so he's still on the other side of the desk, his thighs pressed up against the wood.

And he lifts up her hair. She cringes, as if she hasn't seen the light in a while, and she probably hasn't.

He flips all her unruly dark curls to one side, so he can see her beautiful face.

And she looks up, and spits out one word. "What?"

"We're going somewhere, together." Warner says, deciding to phrase it like it's an order, hoping she'll just let it go and come. But that's not who Juliette is, he knows.

"Is it a business meeting?" She asks, clearly indicating that she'll only go if it's productive to her and not a waste of her time. But Warner's planning on making this a night she'll remember, if she'd just stop working for an hour or two.

Warner shakes his head, still not taking his eyes off hers. That would be a sign of submission, and he's not going to back down now. He's gotten so far. "No. I want to take you out."

She sighs, pushing her hair out of her face agitatedly. "I can't stop working right now. Maybe later," she says calmly, but he knows that's a lie.

He lets out an exasperated growl like noise, "Juliette, I never see you anymore. Surely you can stop working for two hours to come somewhere with me?"

And she breaks. She knows she hasn't been exactly…nice to him recently, but her job is stressful and she has a lot of work to do. But he looks so sad, and also very cute when he gets annoyed.

Warner can feel her breaking down, and he knows he's getting closer.

And she snaps.

He can feel it. It feels good, being on top again. Now she'll go with him wherever he wants to go, and he has the perfect plan.

"Fine. Can I ask where we're going?" She says, sliding out from her desk.

He almost forgot how tall she is, almost his height but a few inches shy. He hasn't seen her stand, much less walk in a whole week.

He smiles. "You can't. But you can see it, if you just follow me," and with that, he starts to walk out the door, and she follows closely behind.

They don't talk on the way there; Warner drives and Juliette chews and bites her fingernails. She's got a huge meeting tomorrow, and she needs to get a lot of sleep before it. She can only hope that this doesn't take long, but there's not getting out of it now.

The two pull up at an old faded sign, and Juliette can only make out 'State Park' written in big green letters.

They drive through a small forest, until they reach a clearing. A big lake is nestled inside, surrounded by sand and grass and old docks that are falling apart and rotting.

"What's this?" She asks, genuinely curious now.

He smiles at her, "This is my secret lake."

They both exit the car, after he parks it in a patch of shade, and Warner gets a basket out from the trunk.

"A picnic?" Juliette asks, not hiding the happiness from her eyes.

He nods, and takes her hand as they walk down to the beach. Juliette's never been on a real beach before, only the little pond they had in the backyard at her old house. Her parents never took her anywhere, so she'd lay outside in the long grass and daydream about what it would be like to go on a picnic with someone, just once.

They set out towels and wade in the water, and eat sandwiches and drink wine by the water, and both of them are happy.

But in the end, it's not happiness that matters to Warner, not that much. He'll always be a man, and by his nature he'll be competitive. And right now, he's on top, and he's feeling good.


End file.
